When This All Goes To Hell
by DyrraDegan
Summary: The connection between the Exile and her new Padawans has become overwhelming. Will she find relief from an unlikely source? LSFExile/Mandalore
1. Chapter 1

2:41am

Daeria Alecto frowned and sat upright in her bedroll. The move to the cargo hold had seemed like a good idea initially. It certainly was quiet, but it had yet to improve her sleep patterns. It seemed that her nights began to lengthen when Mical joined the crew just over three weeks ago. Atton Rand had bristled at Mical from their very first meeting. She recalled how his eyes had narrowed and how sharply his temper had flared. It was an anger born of deep insecurity the moment he sensed her reaction to the polite, blonde physician. The bond between Master and Disciple was instantaneous, almost like they'd known each other their entire lives.

The Exile's brow furrowed. In the weeks since, Atton's anxiety had blossomed into a very full and dangerous jealousy. He watched her the way a scorned lover might, stealing glances and hiding in the shadows when she worked with the young doctor. What worried her most of all was that he either didn't think to or didn't care to conceal his feelings and as such, she sensed him every time. It was unlike Atton to be so careless, it was fundamental to his nature to protect himself.

Daeria stood, stretching briefly and pulled on her knee-length, brown leather boots.  
Attempting to sleep was useless. Grabbing a burgundy outer robe, she pulled it on over her under tunic and leggings. Sliding her hands under her unbound, white-blonde hair, she flipped it out over her collar. Running her hands carefully over the few, small braids she wore she felt the black and blue crystals that adorned them, making sure that they hadn't tangled.

The tension between her students was reaching a fevered pitch and her agitation was spiking right along with it. Atton had spent the bulk of the day trying to pick fights with Mical and growing increasingly frustrated when his attempts failed. The young doctor parried his attempts easily enough with words but she could sense his underlying frustration. He continued to offer kindness to Atton, no matter how often he was rebuffed, but the young Master wondered how much longer he would be able to control his irritation.

Moving to the exit and into the corridor, it occured to her that the behaviour of her young Padawans only confirmed what she feared the most. The longer they were exposed to her, the more tied they became. Worst of all, the bond seemed to be mostly baseless. It was like they'd each created their own fantasy of who she was and reacted to her accordingly. Atton had been almost completely self-sufficient when they'd met, using considerable charm and cunning to get what he needed. Now it seemed that his happiness and sense of worth depended solely on her good opinion.  
Any time away, any focus on anyone else and his emotions would cascade, a waterfall of envy,  
insecurity, anger and wariness. It was nothing short of unnatural, it permeated the entire ship and exhausted the Exile.

Passing the Medical Bay, she thought of Mical. He was the opposing side of the same coin, not insecure, but he placed the young master on an almost stratospheric pedestal. In his mind, she was the most perfect being in all creation and incapable of any wrong. Bao Dur was similar, but less open in his opinion. He still insisted on calling her "General", his tone reverential and he'd made it clear that he'd happily follow her to his death. It was like he'd never heard of the Shadow Generator, like the disaster that had occurred at her hand was barely worth mention. The abnormality of it was subtle, easy to overlook when dealing with Atton, but it was there. Both were men of science and logic. When dealing with everyone else, they were perfectly balanced.

It was her.

The cursed bond had affected each Padawan, overriding their natural instincts and blinding them to who she really was. They either couldn't or wouldn't see her as the very flawed human that she was. It made her temper simmer continually and their attempts to please her only added to her annoyance. It seemed that the only beings aboard who truly treated her fairly appeared to be comprised mostly of metal. The droids and Mandalore.

The droids didn't surprise her, but Mandalore certainly did. He was the only organic, sentient being aboard the Hawk who seemed to be completely unaffected by her presence. He'd been grouchy and combative with her from the start, harshly critical of her leadership style and utterly unafraid to argue with her. At times in the beginning, it had nearly come to blows. Eventually she just avoided him, getting tasks completed with minimal fuss, but as they continued on their journey, contact had increased once more. Mandalore was unavoidable and just as cantankerous as ever but she couldn't deny that he was fair. Her style had garned positive results quickly and while he never admitted that his initial assessment of her was wrong, he'd slowly and openly demonstrated an increased trust in her. For her part, the Exile's attitude had undergone a full reversal from the beginning. It was liberating to deal with someone who truly saw her for who she was. Instead of anger, she was relieved when he brought things to her attention, pleased whenever he flatly told her she was wrong and took a secret delight in their arguments.

In that moment, it occurred to The Exile that she actually quite liked him. Grinning to herself,  
she briefly wondered how the big Mandalorian would react if he knew. Biting her lip, she stifled a laugh. No doubt, he'd be furious.

Entering the main hold, she paused in mid-step. It appeared that Mandalore was still awake,  
but for the first time ever she saw a bare, rough hand scratching the back of a silver head, shot with fine, black strands. Her eyes widened. She never witnessed him out of armour before.  
His metal shell was such a constant that she'd not really viewed him as a man in quite some time.  
When she thought of the crew, generally she saw two groups. Atton, Mical, Bao, Visas and Mira in one, Mandalore, HK and T3 in the other. He sensed her presence almost immediately. Straightening he turned and raised one scarred brow, his grey eyes boring straight into her.

Leaning against the door frame she took a moment to truly see him. Even without the metal, he was huge, standing at least a head taller than Atton. Broad-shouldered, square-jawed and powerfully muscled from head to toe. He wore a black, sleeveless undertunic, sand coloured pants and thickly soled black boots that appeared to be plated with durasteel. His left upper arm appeared to be marked with a tattoo, though it was difficult to pick out the detail from where she stood. He was older as she'd suspected, his face marked with battle at the brow and near his mouth, but surprisingly handsome.

"What are YOU doing up?" he grunted, obviously annoyed at being caught without his helm.

She moved to where he stood, crossing her arms and shooting him a cocky, half-smile, "Couldn't sleep," she replied casually, "But this is good. I was beginning to wonder if you were all droid under there."

The big Mandalorian sneered, subtly pushing his hips towards her, "Better make sure, Princess,"  
he snapped, "Why don't you put your face down there and take a closer look."

The Exile barked a short, sharp laugh, feeling both a flush of heat and an undercurrent of relief at having the moment shattered. When cornered, Mandalore was all spines and sharp edges and this time she'd really caught him at a disadvantage. True to form, he'd tried to knock her off balance verbally almost immediately. The Exile felt a smoldering delight in the pit of her stomach, he'd succeeded, but she'd never let him know. The real trick with Mandalore was to not let him get away with anything. To hold the Manadalorian's respect, she'd learned to respond quickly, taking his attempts to a completely different level and beating him at his own game. Leaning in close, she planted a small kiss on his cheek, on the space just before his ear. "Asshole..." she whispered, moving past him carefully and squeezing one of his powerful buttocks as she went. Biting down her laughter, she quickly exited the hold. It wasn't necessary to look back over her shoulder, his stunned silence said it all.


	2. Chapter 2

Continuing on, she entered the narrow corridor that lead to the Port Dormitory, feeling her eyes sting. Partially from exhaustion, but partially because she couldn't remember the last time she felt truly amused.

The moment was short-lived.

An enormous, calloused hand roughly grabbed her left wrist, dragging her back towards the cargo hold. Without thinking, she closed her left fist, grabbing it with her right hand and yanked hard, tearing herself from his grasp. Spinning, she turned and dropped automatically into a fighting stance, her pale blue eyes sparking fire.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" she hissed, her voice a low threat.

He ignored her stance entirely, pointing one large finger in her face. "I want to talk to you.  
NOW." he snapped, turning on his heel and marching into her makeshift quarters.

Cautiously she rose, rubbing her pale wrist as she followed swiftly behind him, fuming. When they were inside, she punched the controls on the wall, sealing and instantly sound-proofing the hold.  
Whipping to the left, she stalked over to where he stood, jabbing a long, sharp finger into his sternum. "The next time you want to talk to me, you ASK!" she barked, "You grab me without warning again and you'll find yourself minus an arm!"

He snorted derisively, grabbing the edges of her robe and snapping them open, "Hard to do if you aren't carrying a weapon," he barked, gesturing towards her hips, "I'm only going to tell you this once, little girl...Don't. Underestimate. Me."

The bastard was right. Her twin, silver lightsabers lay next to her bedroll, along with her belt and the majority of her armour.

"Do you really think that I need a weapon to take you out?" she growled, eyes narrowed to azure slits.

He grabbed her upper arms tightly, giving her a sharp shake, "That ain't what I'm talking about and you know it! I KNOW what you were trying to do back there and if you ever pull that on me again, we're going to have a problem, got it, Force Witch?"

Daeria shook her shoulders roughly, backing away and removing herself from his grip. "WITCH?!"  
she shouted, halting in confusion "I...wait...WHAT?!"

"You heard me," he said coldly, "You can stuff your charm, sister. It won't work on me and you've already got plenty of idiots willing to die for you. Leave. Me. ALONE."

Her face fell in shock, a wave of dizziness washed over her as the realization of what he was accusing her of sank in. "You...you think I'm doing this on purpose?" she cried, "Don't you?"

He folded his arms, eying her silently.

"Get out." she snarled.

"Not so fast! I ain't done with y..."

"OUT!" she bellowed, hammering the door control with her fist.

He crossed quickly, shoving her roughly aside and punching the control shut once more. Moving to mere inches from her face, he hovered, his eyes steely and dangerous, "I said I wasn't finished." he said, his tone ice, "I'm not like the rest of those di'kuts that we travel with. I honestly don't give a DAMN what your intention is with them, but I am Mandalore. You use those weak-minded little chakaars as canon fodder all you want, but if you push me again, I'll push back. HARD."

"You complete and utter jackass!" she snapped, "You tell me to stick my FACE in your CROTCH, I one-up you and all of a sudden it's a plot to take down the MIGHTY Mandalore and turn him into my own, mindless slave? Well, I BEG your pardon, your grace, if I'd know it would be THAT easy, I would've been more careful!"

Master Alecto folded her arms across her long, thin frame, knitting her eyebrows together in frustration and taking a moment to compose herself. She couldn't help but notice that his hands had closed in very tight fists.

"Look," she began, lowering her tone to one of reason, "This is getting us nowhere. You know damned well that I have no control over my connection to the others. You've also been at my side pretty continually since we met. Tell me, in that time have you ever known me to use a dirty,  
underhanded trick? As I recall, the main thing that pissed you off about me in the beginning was that I wouldn't make innocent sacrifices to secure what I wanted, no matter what. You were the one who always argued that weaknesses are to be exploited, NOT ME."

Pausing, she took a moment to inhale deeply, relaxing slightly on release as she met his steel eyes once more, "Damn it Canderous..." she murmured, "Do...do you really think I'm just going to use the others until I get them killed? That I'd do that to you?"

His jaw clenched and he looked to the wall, staring silently.

"You know why I'm up every night lately?" she asked, "It's because whenever I close my eyes, I see them. Dead...dismembered...lifeless eyes just staring out...I don't know how to stop it and every day it seems to escalate...the tie works both ways, you know..."

He turned back to her, "You always been like this? With the connections, I mean?"

"Yes," she replied, "But never like this. Never to the point of endangering those I've been tied to. I can't explain it."

"That old witch had something to do with it," he said shortly, "You're gonna have to kill her, you know..."

The young master sighed deeply, "I'm hoping it doesn't come to that," she said, "That there's some way to pull her back..."

"Huh. Fat chance," he snorted, folding his arms.

"You didn't answer me," she said, stepping away from the big Mandalorian, "So I assume you think I'd sacrifice any one of you the first chance I got. Don't you know me at all?"

He closed the space between them, scrutinizing the depths of her sky-blue eyes, searching for honesty, "Yeah, well I thought I knew you too. But I felt what you were doing right here...and here..." he said, gesturing to his head and chest, "And it was in there deep."

"Did it ever occur to you that perhaps I wasn't doing anything at all?" she asked, arching a brow.

Realization as to what she was suggesting set in and his eyes widened, "You're dreaming, princess!" he snapped.

"Am I?" she asked, keenly focused on his expression.

He snorted, looking down, "Then you don't know me either," he said, "If you did, you'd know that I don't feel. Not that way. Not ever. So that meant that whatever that was, it wasn't me. It had to be you."

Understanding hit her and she smiled broadly, placing her hands gently on his crossed forearms, "That's bantha shit and you know it," she said, "Everyone feels. Some more than others, to be sure, but it's the one thing every sentient being has in common."

"Yeah, well not me," he said gruffly, looking away, "Too many years, too much blood under the boots and you stop giving a damn."

"That a fact?" she asked, raising her hands and gently turning his head towards her once more, "How about now?"

Taking a moment, she ran her fingertips lightly over the scars near his mouth, "How did you get these?" she asked.

His jaw clenched, "Stop that." he growled.

Her hands slid along his rough cheeks and down his neck until her arms circled him. Leaning forward, she nuzzled his neck gently, feeling him stiffen at her touch. Stroking the back of his neck, she slowly laced her fingers upwards, into his hair and planted a trail of kisses along his jugular. His body wavered a moment, pressing hotly to hers, but her grabbed her upper arms and pushed her back, a low, jagged noise emanating from the back of his throat.

"Why don't you leave me the hell alone?" he asked, "You know damned well that the Doc or Atton would be only to happy to...uhh...take care of that for you. Hmpf...Mira too, I think."

Daeria held his gaze, bending her elbows and placing her hands on his biceps, stroking them with her thumbs. "Because I don't want Atton or Mical or Mira or Bao or Visas or bloody T3," she replied, "What I want is someone who sees right through my crap, someone who doesn't let me get away with anything, someone who's happy to tell me "No" when everyone else is saying yes. Someone who might last more than a minute and a half in a fair fight with me, and someone I can trust not to behave like an idiot when this all goes to hell..."

"I'm old enough to be your daddy, little girl," he muttered, his eyes flaring.

"Don't care, never knew him," she replied, leaning in and touching the tip of his nose with her own.

His hands relaxed, releasing her upper arms and sliding upwards, along her jawline until he held her face in his hands, "You know this is a bad idea, atin" he said softly, "I mean, as far as shit decisions go, this has to be your worst yet. You really need to stop and think."

His hands were massive, calloused and very warm on her skin, the sensation made her feel almost drunk. "I don't want to..." she slurred slightly, tracing the outline of his scars with her eyes.

He released her carefully, backing away slowly and pushing the door controls to open, "Yeah, well I do." he said, stepping outside and holding her gaze for a moment before turning and heading up the corridor.


	3. Chapter 3

The Exile stood, frozen for a moment and wavering slightly in the empty space of the cargo hold. She could still feel his hands on her cheeks, his neck on her lips. Opening her eyes, she moved to the door switch and peered cautiously out into the corridor. It was deserted and she leaned against the frame, smiling slightly to herself. There had been a momentary pang of rejection but it was followed quickly by a wave of hope. The big Mandalorian had walked away, essentially telling her, "No," when she was trying her hardest to get his attention. If he could do that, it meant that others might be able to as well.

Suddenly feeling sleepy, she hit the switch to close the hold door and headed to her bedroll. Pulling off her boots and dropping her outer robe, she climbed in, closing her eyes. Mandalore was certainly right about there being enough willing to die for her and most likely foolishly. As she drifted off, it occurred to her that the only solution was to not give them the opportunity.

5:51am

"General...General?" a warm voice whispered.

Daeria opened her eyes slowly, noting a soft, blue glow in her peripheral vision. Turning her head slightly to the right, Bao Dur's form came into focus. He was kneeling a respectable distance away, but she wondered why he was awake. She was always the first to rise in the morning and her brow creased in confusion slightly, "What is it Bao?"

"It's almost 6am," he replied, "An hour beyond when you normally join us. I...that is, we wanted to make sure that you were alright."

Master Alecto pushed herself upwards on her forearms until she was in a sitting position, stretching slightly, "I see," she said coolly, "And would the other miscreants just happen to be on the other side of that wall?"

"No General," he said softly, "They decided that it would be best to wait in the main hold. You've had to break up so many fights lately that they figured it would be best to send me in. I am sorry to disturb you though."

The Exile smiled, "Not to worry," she said, "You did the right thing, we need to prepare and re-stock for Malachor today. Let the others know that I'll be along momentarily."

"Yes General," he said, standing and heading out into the corridor.

Reaching for her gear, she stood and pulled on the layers of her robes, securing the twin sabers at her hips. Pulling on her boots, she reached down, storing her sleep gear and taking a moment to enjoy the sensation of a brief but deep and dreamless sleep. In hindsight, the path to take had been clear for quite some time, but committing herself to it had calmed and centered her in a way that she hadn't thought possible.

Moving into the corridor, she took a deep breath and headed towards the main hold. It appeared that the others were awake and gathered, talking in small groups with the exception of Mandalore. He stood formidably at his normal station, clad in full armour once more. The inability to see his face took away much of the sting of embarrassment from the night before.

A gentle nudge at her right wrist and she turned to find Mical at her side, offering a hot cup of spiced tea. "Thank-you," she whispered with a warm smile, taking the cup gratefully from him.

The young doctor's large, pale blue eyes sparked as his cheeks coloured slightly, "You are most welcome, Master." he replied, turning back to the rest of the crew. It was impossible for him to hide his affection for her, it rolled off him in waves and she eyed him compassionately, feeling her resolve turn to steel.

"Alright, good morning!" she called, grabbing the attention of the crew who quieted and turned to face her. "We've got a lot of work to do today if we're going to get out of here and press on to Malachor V. Adding to the difficulty is the damage that this station has sustained. It's going to be a lot more difficult to get supplies, but we'll manage. Mical, how are we doing for medpacks and stims?"

"Drastically reduced," he replied, "Considering our intended destination, I suspect we are in possession of a third of what we need."

The Exile nodded, "Alright, Mical and Visas. I want you to find as many merchants and medical personnel as you can and secure as much as possible. I've made a lot of credits in the course of our travels so cost isn't really an issue. That goes for all of you. Mandalore, how are we doing for grenades and mines?"

"We went through a hell of a lot yesterday and I know I handed some off to Onasi's men," he replied, "But with some supplies I'm sure we can turn out enough today to get us through."

"Right," she said, "And how's the Hawk holding up, Bao?"

"Admirably," he replied, "Though perhaps some extra parts might help with the shields."

"Ok, I want you two together. I don't think Onasi or Grenn will be able to help, so I'm going to need you to hunt down some black market sources. Take HK for back-up, but leave Remote here. I don't think that the type of people you'll be dealing with will know what it is and I'd rather them not assume that they're being recorded. Got it?"

"Yes General," Bao Dur replied. Mandalore tilted his helm slowly in assent.

"Ok, Mira and Atton," she said, "I need you to hit up the Entertainment District. Start at the Cantina because I'm sure they opened up again as soon as the shooting stopped. I want you to hit up whoever you can for any and all of the supplies I've just mentioned. I don't care how you secure what we need, win it in Pazaak for all I care, just move quickly."

"Gotcha," replied Atton with a roguish wink.

"Ok, that leaves T3 who will be effecting as many repairs as possible while we're gone and me. I've got a breakfast meeting with Admiral Onasi in an hour but I will have my comm if you need me. Any questions?"

Daeria paused for a moment, eying each trusting face and burning it to her memory. No one spoke so she tossed them a carefree grin, "Alright," she said brightly, "Let's get moving!"

Boots clanged on the grated flooring as the crew moved, in a herd to the entrance ramp, slowly exiting and talking amongst themselves. She stood there for a moment, eying their retreating frames until they disappeared into Citadel Station. Visas was the last to round the corner and when she did, the Exile eyed her chronometer. It had almost been too easy, but she counted off ten, agonizingly slow minutes. When no one re-appeared, she raced inside, hunting down T3 who had just begun a repair in the garage. "T3 stop," she ordered, "We're getting out of here in 5 minutes so close up and get ready for take-off."

The astromech blatted admonishingly at her.

"Yes, I know exactly what I'm doing and I need you ready to go, ok?" she replied.

"Dwooooo..." replied the droid.

"Yes, I know. There may not be enough medpacks, stims, grenades or mines for the crew, but there's more than enough for just me and the Hawk will hold together. I know it will." she said.

Racing to the cockpit, Master Alecto dropped into Atton's seat, closed the ramp and initiated the take-off sequence. It had been some time since she'd flown, but she felt that her skills were fair enough to get her where she needed to go. In a moment she felt the powerful, slow thrust of liftoff and they were in the sky. Burning through the atmosphere she began to set the hyperspace coordinates for Malachor V, palms sweating and hoping against hope that none of the crew would return to the ramp.

Finally, the Hawk was ready. The Exile took a deep breath and slowly pushed the levers to the hyperdrive. "Here goes nothing..." she muttered as the stars suddenly changed from bright pinpoints to long, gleaming white streaks. Daeria waited a moment for the initial force from the burst of speed to wear off, set the auto pilot and pulled herself out of Atton's seat. Whatever happened, she was certain for the first time that she wouldn't fail.

A wave of exhaustion overwhelmed her. Reaching for her comm, she cleared her throat slightly, "T3, are you there?" The question was met with a musical affermative from the astromech, "Good," she continued, "I need to rest, can you keep an eye on things in the cockpit and wake me when we're an hour out from Malachor?"

Once again she was met with a series of positive blats and grinning, she pocketed her comm and headed straight for the fresher.

One scalding hot shower later and the young master was in her bedroll once more. Checking her chronometer, the Exile noticed that there were 16 hours of flight left before T3 would call. Her last thought was that she just might sleep through them all. 


	4. Chapter 4

So prickly...

The Exile frowned slightly, slowly rising from the depths of her dreams and back to reality. Something just wasn't right. The pit of her stomach was knotted in anxiety and she was sweating lightly. It was almost as if she was being watched. Lying very still, she reached out with her mind, sweeping the room until she found it. A very definite presence waited on the durasteel cannisters near the door. Snapping her arm sharply in that direction and rising to a sitting position, she fired a stastis field, wavering a moment as her vision came into focus.

Her jaw dropped, throwing her legs out, she jumped to her feet and stalked across the room, releasing the field as she went. "Unbelievable!" she cried, "What are you doing here?"

The huge Mandalorian was out of armour once more, perched atop a durasteel canister with his back leaning to the wall. His right leg was straight, his foot firmly on the floor. The left was bent, heel on the edge with his elbow resting on the kneecap and his hand hanging down lazily. He smirked, lowering his left foot to the floor, pushing forward and standing. "Looks like I'm going to Malachor," he sneered.

"Like hell you are!" she snapped, grabbing her Comm, "T3! Search our route for any habitable planets."

"HAH!" he barked, "You'll never do it!"

"Oh, won't I?" she replied, raising an eyebrow, "What makes you so sure of yourself?"

"First, I'm no moron." he growled, "Second, you have no idea how long it took for someone to return to that ramp. Was it six hours? One hour? Ten minutes? You don't have the time to waste, lady. Whatever the time frame, they're coming for you."

"Well thanks to you disappearing, I'm sure Bao noticed immediately!" she shouted.

"You deaf, honey?" he spat, "I said I wasn't a moron! I told the tech that I had contacts I needed to meet alone. That it would take a few hours and that I'd let him know when I was DONE."

Daeria felt her cheeks redden as her temper flared inside. She hated it when he was right. Squeezing she felt the tiny comm splinter into pieces in her palm. "Damn you..." she muttered, "DAMN YOU! Did it ever occur to you that I needed to come alone? That perhaps having anyone else along at all would be disastrous?"

"I'm sure you think so," he replied coolly, "I'm also sure that you're full of crap..."

The young Master threw her hands in the air, pieces of comm raining down over her shoulder as she turned on her heel and paced back and forth in the hold, "Uh-huh! Uh-huh! Crap! Yes! Of course! I mean, this trip is of little concern! It's not like it's the biggest battle I've ever fought! It's not like the lives of every Force sensitive being in the galaxy are at risk, including my own Padawans! It's not like I'll need every ounce of my strength and concentration which I'll find hard to do when I'm stepping over the body of someone I...my comrade!" she ranted.

Canderous folded his arms, rocking back on his heels slightly. "Let me tell you something about you Jedi," he said evenly, "You're arrogant. Every last one of you. And that arrogance gets you killed more than any of you will admit. You're SO sure I'll get killed, huh? I was dropping from orbit on a Basilisk War Droid when your Mama was skinning her knees at school. You seriously think I give two shits about that old witch?"

Pausing in mid-pace, she looked up, her eyes burning with annoyance. "You know as well as I do that the moment you set foot on that planet, she'll sense you. And then she'll kill you. Sith Lords are known for being very effective at that!"

"Then let me tell you something else about you Jedi. Sith too," he said icily, moving into her space, "When you're focused on something. I mean REALLY focused, you might as well be blind and deaf. You had this plan worked out to the last detail! You were SO certain that you were smarter than the rest of us. I'm sure you probably took ten minutes just to pat yourself on the back. Well sister, the minute you told the tech to leave that Remote I knew what your plan was. I know he's been programming that thing for weeks to activate the Shadow Generator. I also know that we've worked with plenty of shady types before and it wasn't a problem. So I fed Bao my excuse and camouflaged as soon as he was out of sight. You were so focused on your plan and your chronometer that I walked RIGHT PAST YOU."

Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Yeah, that's right," he continued, "I was as close to you as I am right now and you didn't flinch. By the time you fired up the converters I was sitting in the fresher reading the Daily Holo, so don't insult me by acting like you are the only hope for this galaxy lady. That rotten bat is going to be so busy having the sweaty thigh-shakes over you that I could probably shoot her in the head, point blank, before you even get to say hello and go to hell."

Eyes narrowing, Daeria placed her hands on her hips, "Now who's arrogant?" she asked.

"Maybe," he replied, "But you're stuck with me, so stop acting like a sanctimonious know-it-all when you know damned well that you're lucky to have me!"

Master Alecto paused for a moment. Dealing with Canderous Ordo was like dealing with a rabid Zakkeg. If you didn't pay close attention, you'd miss the occasional flash of soft underbelly. "A lot like me, really..." she thought.

Exhaling slowly, she dropped her hands to her sides and looked searchingly into the depths of his cool grey eyes. "I'm sorry Canderous," she said calmly, "You know full well how much I appreciate you. I've taken you everywhere with me since we met. Under normal circumstances I wouldn't dream of entering battle without you, but this...I can't explain it. I...hate her...I mean I really, really HATE her. I couldn't bear it if she took you away from me. Call me selfish, but there it is. As for being a know-it-all, that's impossible because I really need an explanation from you right now."

Relaxing slightly, his eyes warmed and he nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact.

"Yesterday..." she began, "I mean, you have your men and a massive rebuild to undertake. It's a lot of responsibility and you even told me that I've got plenty of idiots willing to die for me. You told me to leave you alone, so...why are you here? I mean, why didn't you just let me go by myself?"

"Little girl, you need all the help you can get," he replied gently, "I was taught to fight from birth. There is glory in a battle like this but what it gets down to is that you can't do this alone. No one can and it's idiotic to try. You just spent the last 20 minutes knocking yourself out, throwing everything you had at me. What a waste! Save it for the real enemy, mesh'la! Take my help. It's my choice. I want to. Just don't...don't expect me to sit idly by while you run off to get yourself killed. I can't do it."

She eyed him, almost in a daze. He really cared. Not in the altered, almost perverse way of her Padawans, but genuinely. She could feel it coming from him strongly for the first time. The gruff sarcasm, crude humour and criticism were rarely aimed at anyone else. For him, it was...affection. It was the only way he could tell her.

As she pondered this, he moved forward suddenly, placed his hands on his cheeks and pulled her lips roughly to his. She started slightly, freezing for a moment and then wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, raising her hands and firmly rubbing his back. He responded eagerly, pushing his tongue into her mouth and grinding his hips slowly into hers.

A groan caught in her throat and her pale eyes rolled. Bending her back slightly, he released her now swollen lips and moved to the soft skin of her neck, biting it tenderly and nuzzling the space between the joint of her jaw and her earlobe. Raising her arms, she knotted her hands in his hair, struggling to catch her breath, "I...I thought...you needed to think..." she breathed, her voice wavering.

"Did that," he rasped in her ear.

"And?"

"If we're gonna die tomorrow, I'm goin' out happy," he whispered.

"About time you got some sense..." she purred, removing her hands from his hair and running her nails along his back.

His eyes sparked as he straightened, quickly tearing the garments from their bodies. Scooping her up in his arms, he deposited her on her bedroll, kicking his boots aside. Placing a splayed hand on either side of her head, he positioned himself carefully above her, and held his position, peering into the depths of her azure eyes. He was so physically perfect that it made her eyes sting. Chiseled muscle from head to toe, his skin a roadmap of scars in varying sizes. Each was a mark of survival, a badge of experience and her hands drifted to them, gently tracing their outlines with her fingertips. His breathing deepened and she felt a flare of heat from his body. Sliding her fingers upwards, she pulled his mouth to hers, kissing him slowly, tenderly and deeply. He made a small trail of soft kisses from her mouth to her right earlobe, "Last chance, cyar'ika," he whispered, "If you don't tell me to stop, there's no turnin' back."

She pulled his face back to hers, eying him with a thunderous expression.

"Ordo, if you stop...I'll kill you myself."


End file.
